


Dirk Gently and the search for the holy sleep.

by tinymaninatincan



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: 2x03 coda, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Shit Hits The Fan, a lot of fluff, bc Todd is the sweetest bf ever, bc i love angst, but then fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 07:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymaninatincan/pseuds/tinymaninatincan
Summary: Ah, sleep, what a wayward thing. Wayward and fanciful, because Dirk is starting to think it doesn’t exist such a thing called “sleeping”, and it’s only a tale people tell other people, a mythical entity such as unicorns, witches and pretty pink-haired princes.Or maybe sleep doesn’t like him anymore. Maybe it is avoiding him because, somehow, he’s ruined its life too.





	Dirk Gently and the search for the holy sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, here I am again.This is my first brotzly-ish fic bc i’m a sucker for whump!dirk and soft bf!todd (bf as best friend or boyfriend, who knows). It takes places just right after 2x03. Be aware: english isn’t my first language, so… yeah, sorry about any possible mistakes, i’ve tried my best.  
> ((i posted this on my tumblr too, gentlyicarus .tumblr.com :D)).

Ah, sleep, what a wayward thing. Wayward and fanciful, because Dirk is starting to think it doesn’t exist such a thing called “sleeping”, and it’s only a tale people tell other people, a mythical entity such as unicorns, witches and pretty pink-haired princes. 

Or maybe sleep doesn’t like him anymore. Maybe it is avoiding him because, somehow, he’s ruined its life too.

Be as it is, Dirk can’t sleep. Again. He’s left wide awake in what it must already be the middle of the night, the pale and weak light from outside the police station being the only thing breaking the almost suffocating darkness that reigns the cell. 

Opening his eyes (because doesn’t matter how hard he tries to trick the sleep by closing them hard), Dirk sighs and lays on his back. He stares at the rusty screws and springs of the top bunk, where Todd is sleeping (see, sleep is very clever, it likes Todd more, and well, here they have something in common: he also likes Todd (a lot)), and then he has a somewhat feel of deja vu, his new clothes being only thing different from his previous sleepless night. 

Tonight is the second night since he’s escaped Blackwing and the second one he’s incapable of doing something as easy as sleep. 

Truth to be told, the quality of his nappings at Blackwing HQ wasn’t ideal, all his nights plagued with false hopeful dreams and ugly nightmares inside the own nightmare his real life had become; or more accurately, re-become. But at least he could snooze for a bunch of hours, most of the days succumbing into the land of dreams due to pure tiredness (being wrong all the time on the awful experiments and test they put him through was exhausting).

It seems like that is not enough now, though. This night he’s exhausted too. All of him is exhausted, in more than one sense. His back hurts there where he went through that bloody doghouse, and every single one of his muscles seems to fight him, rancorous, uncooperative on the task of relaxing. His head hurt too, not so much for being used as a rag doll by a zombie caveman, but for his even more painful thoughts. 

Dirk can feel them, almost as physical as a bruise, bouncing and hitting the walls of his skull, mixing and spinning without any pause, chaotically, creeping and scratching at every inch of his mind. Last night, they were infested by the words “medication” and “paralibulitis”, by the image of a spidery web, a web that represented the universe in its purest, cruelest state, the same web he’s always been trapped into (and where he’ll always be); but, now, the people he loves the most were tangled too, suffering and awaiting slowly, agonically, until it devours them all. And, on top of all that, there was a stain, a burning wave that tainted everything, that made him felt like drowning: guilt (because of course, of course, it was all his fault). 

Those thoughts haven’t disappeared, following him like a shadow even at daylight, but tonight, on top on them, more thoughts share his mind, thoughts about the pink haired Prince and that awful prophecy. Yeah, sure, apparently a whole kingdom depended on him and his ability to find a mysterious boy. Great. 

He turns around again on his bunk, frustrated, closing his eyes and opening them just a few seconds later. He stares at the grey wall and his frown deepens. At least Sheriff Hobbs was considered enough to let them sleep in the farthest cell from that bloody murderous woman and the proclaimed prince. If Dirk had to sleep (fake sleep? try to sleep) near them, he’d end having a nervous breakdown. 

Little noise can be heard, some crickets on the outside and the deep breathings of his incarcerated companions. Dirk is the only awake one and, suddenly, that makes him feel so alone. He hugs the thin pillow and closes his eyes, hard, this time not in search of sleep, but in an attempt of containing the stinging tears that threaten to fall from them. He feels again like the little child, scared and lost, and for fuck sakes, he hated being that little child. He even sniffles quietly like one, a trembling shaking his whole body. He can’t cope anymore, everything should be alright, he almost had everything he wanted (a detective agency, a family) at the tips of his fingers and then the universe slapped him right on the face… he’s so tired of all this… ok, so he’s having a breakdown anyway, awesome.

Unexpectedly, in the middle of the sad mess he’s turned into, something touches his shoulder, and Dirk flinches and bolts into a sitting position so fast he almost knocks his head with the top bunk.

“Hey, hey, it’s me”, a soft whisper comes from a cut-out silhouette crouched over his bed. Dirk tries to convince himself that the reason why he takes almost ten seconds to recognize Todd relies on the darkened room and not because of the tears that cover his eyes.

“Todd!”, Dirk exclaims, and then modulates his voice volume, lowing it, his arms crushing the poor pillow in a terrified grip, “Todd, what… mmm, what are you…? You shouldn’t be awake, tomorrow we have a lot of things to do and you’ll need to rest because…”

“Yes, I…” Todd stops him, then keeps silence for a moment, his hand (the one which almost gives Dirk a heart attack) half way extended in an awkward position, “I was asleep, but I’ve heard you, you know…” he makes a vague movement, “ and you were trembling so hard the bunk was shaking a little… so…”

“So I have woken you up” finishes Dirk, and yep, that’s it, the last string. Hello, tears, now you are free! He curls into himself, his knees against his chest and his face against the pillow, because now he’s not just sniffling but sobbing for real and he doesn’t want Todd to see how much a crybaby he is. “I’m sorry. Oh, god, I’m so so sorry.”

He keeps muttering shaky, dull sorrys, until he doesn’t know for sure what he’s apologizing for anymore. At one point, Todd sits by his side, the mattress creaking and sinking. The hand returns to his shoulder, careful, like it’s approaching a frightened wild animal, and it’s warm, and steady, and Todd’s and then it rubs small, soothing circles in his back, with such care Dirk feels like crying even harder.

“Hey, it’s okay”, Todd keeps his voice low, but his tone is firm, and Dirk knows Todd knows he’s not apologizing for waking him. “It’s okay, Dirk". 

“No, it’s not.” he manages to say, his quivering words muffled by the pillow. “Everything is not okay. D-definitely not okay. And it is going to get worse, not better, and I don’t know how… all of this…” It is too much. 

“Okay, lay down.”

The hand disappears from his back abruptly, the lost making him whimper, and he feels Todd moving until he’s the one laying down. Dirk is so surprised and confused that he lows the pillow, resurfacing just a bit, his redded, wet eyes darkening beneath a crumpled frown. 

"W-what?" 

Todd taps the white-ish sheets next to him, a little space between his body and the wall.

“Lay down. Here. C’mon, I don’t bite.”

Dirk hesitates, his cheeks colouring a bit at the idea of laying beside Todd on the same bed. Todd sighs and rises a little on his elbows. Dirk couldn’t be sure, but he swears Todd seems a little nervous. 

"When Amanda was little and get scared by nightmares, she came to my room. She’d scooped into my bed and we laid next to each other and I helped her calm down.”

Todd face goes all soft while speaking and Dirk can’t help but be amazed by him: the way he loves Amanda, so deep, so loyal and strongly, was always something he admired a lot. And, well, yeah, ok, he also wished someone loved him that fiercely. However, he’s not sure anymore it’s wise for someone to love him, seeing what the universe makes to them…

"I-I’m not little. And I’m not scared.” says Dirk, though, in a very childish voice.

And then Todd smiles again, the Dirk’s smile, that one between amusement and annoyance, all soft at the corners, the one that makes the detective melt and his stomach ache with butterflies. 

“Of course you’re not. Now, lay down”. 

Dirk hesitates but finally complied, adjusting his long frame at the narrow space. He holds his breath when Todd turns to look at him (they are so close, so close!), his hands carefully extracting the poor strangled pillow from his arms just before returning to his shoulder. “Now focus on my breathing. C’mon, in and… out.” Dirk tries, his eyes wandering nervously, and his hand still shaking.

“I-I can’t.”

“Shh, try”, and that it is, that word, “try”, the same word used by Friedkin at Blackwing, but this time it sounds different: not harsh, not demanding, but reassuring. So he tries, closing his eyes at the same time Todd starts humming a tune Dirk doesn’t recognize, but that he feels thrumming through his bones, lulling him. And then, slowly, his still shaky breaths become calmer, his eyes still sore but no longer tearful. Seconds turn into minutes, and bit by bit Dirk quietens down, the agonizing oppression on his chest, the fear and the hopeless feeling dissolving a little.

“See, better?” Dirk nods a little, opening his eyes just to be meet by Todd smile and by his blue eyes shining proudly (of himself but also of him) in the dark, and, lord, Dirk is so, so in love. “If it helped Amanda overcome her fear with the fairy tooth, it can help anyone.” he jokes, but then frowns a little, the corner of his mouth lowering when he realizes he’s just revealed one of those embarrassing secrets only siblings know, “Although… please, don’t tell her I told you about that fear or she’ll kick my ass.” 

Dirk promise, a grin in his voice. 

They lay like this, in silence, for quite long time: Dirk breathing slowly, his hands wrapped beneath his chin and his eyelids open enough to carefully mapping Todd face between the eyelashes; Todd’s hand still touching him, although it has fall a little from the shoulder and now his thumb is petting unwittingly Dirk’s neck (and that definitely isn’t making Dirk insides go all warm and flutter-y); the humming lower than before, now that he seems to be dozing off.

“I…” Dirk whispers with a such a small voice it’s almost inaudible, not sure if Todd is already asleep. But now he feels safe, safer than he remembers, and vulnerable but in the right way, and he really needs to say it out loud. “I don’t know if I can do it. You know…the prophecy, the case, find the boy. Find… find Amanda”.

Todd’s eyes don’t open, but he moves closer, his arm now circling Dirk in a loose, protective hug.

“We’ll figure it. Together.” his voice is almost a mumble, but it sounds so sincere and determined that Dirk’s fears and intrusive thoughts about guilt, and failure, and loneliness and prophecies and the universe’s web recoil, at least for tonight. “Now, sleep.”

Dirk smiles and, finally, sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> ((have a very nice day :D))


End file.
